Ever After
by tinyinara
Summary: A stand-alone story taking place after the episode Honor Among Thieves. Peter decides it's time for Neal to experience his first spanking. Warning: contains adult discipline.


**SUMMARY:** A stand-alone story taking place directly after the episode Honor Among Thieves (4x05). Peter decides it's time for Neal to experience his first spanking.

**WARNING:** Contains adult discipline (consensual-ish).

**NOTE:** This was written for the March challenge over on White Collar Corrections. I suggest you all check out the site because it's awesome! There are stories, artworks and challenges. Just type the name into google.

**DISCLAIMER:**I don't own _White Collar_. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not making any money from this.

* * *

Ever After

'Hon?'

The sound of El's voice jolted Peter out of his reverie. He glanced down to where her head was resting against his shoulder, her face turned up in mild concern.

'Are you even watching the movie?' she asked with a hint of teasing in her voice.

'Oh…yeah,' Peter assured her, looking over to the television screen where a young man and woman were arguing in a restaurant. 'It's great.'

El smiled up at him. 'Well, now I _know_ you weren't watching,' she said lightly.

'It's bad?'

'Terrible. Worst movie we've watched this year.' El reached for the remote and muted the sound before snuggling in closer to Peter. 'You're still thinking about Neal?'

Peter sighed. 'Yeah, sorry. It's just – I don't think I can do this again. The lies, the cons, the going behind my back. I thought it would be different once he came home, but it's like we're right back at the beginning. And if things don't change, he's going to end up back in jail, and I'm going to lose my job.'

El nodded. 'Yes.'

Peter snorted a little. 'Thanks for the reassurance there, hon.'

'Well, I agree with you,' she said, shifting away and sitting up straight so she could look Peter in the eye. 'So, what can you do to make sure that doesn't happen?'

Peter shook his head. 'I have no idea. It scares me how close I came to arresting him today. And how close I came to strangling him.' He watched his wife bite back a smile at his last words and had to grin a little himself. 'Maybe I should have.'

'I don't think the Bureau would approve of you strangling your C.I.' El said. She paused, and then continued in a gentle tone that Peter recognised as the voice she used when she was being especially mindful of his feelings. 'But honey, he'll never stop unless there's some sort of ramification. I'm not saying it should be jail or throttling, but it probably shouldn't be giving him exactly what he wants either.'

His eyebrows shot up. 'You think I shouldn't have given him the drive?'

'That's not what I meant,' El replied carefully. 'I just think there should be some repercussions when he deceives you and pulls off a multi-million-dollar art heist.'

'I don't know what repercussions I can give,' Peter said, looking away. 'I really did want to strangle him a little. Or –' He broke off and stared resolutely at the wall, feeling El's eyes on him as she waited patiently.

'El…I really wanted to smack him,' he confessed at length.

There was silence for a moment, and he wondered how appalled his wife was. But when her voice came it was concerned rather than angry. 'Peter, I understand feeling that way, especially when he acts like this after everything you've done for him, but you can't do that. You mustn't. If you ever punched Neal…I don't think he'd get over it,' she said softly.

Peter turned to her in shock. 'What? No. I didn't want to punch him in the face. I would never –' he shook his head, trying to clear the image of himself beating up Neal. He would _never_.

El frowned. 'Then what…?'

Peter felt his face heat up a little. It was ridiculous. 'I just… he's so damn _disobedient_, and he doesn't learn, and he refuses to act like a grown up and talk to me about what's going on, and I just –' he stopped abruptly as El burst out laughing and covered her mouth with her hand. 'Hon?' he asked hesitantly.

'Oh Peter,' she said through her giggles. 'Did you want to spank him?'

Peter leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, running his hand over his face. '…a little. I know, it's stupid.'

He heard the last of El's laughter die down and then she pulled his hand gently away from his face.

'Actually,' she said, still smiling, 'it seems strangely fitting. I'm surprised you haven't thought of it before.'

Peter grimaced. In reality, the thought might have crossed his mind once or twice – or twenty times, since he'd started working with Neal. But he'd never come as close to swatting the younger man as he had today.

El laughed again, reading his face perfectly. 'Oh, so this isn't a new idea?' She tilted her head to the side, considering. 'You know hon, I think he might react pretty well to that kind of thing. He's crying out for a father figure, and after losing Ellen, well, he really needs a family right now.'

Peter stared at her. 'You're serious?' She made her _yes, really_ face, and he sighed heavily. 'There's no way Neal would agree to it.'

El squeezed his hand. 'Well, you could do it without his permission. You're a little stronger than him you know.'

Peter shook his head abruptly. 'No. I wouldn't… I won't force him into it. Our relationship's fragile enough as it is.'

'Well then, convince him it's necessary,' El said simply. 'Why don't you go over there now and talk to him about it?'

'Now?' Peter asked, taken aback. The reality of having this discussion with Neal, and doing it _right_ _now_ was startling. 'Isn't it a little late?'

'It's not long after nine, Peter. He'll still be awake and looking over that drive, surely?'

Peter put his hand over his face again. He really didn't want to do this. But if it would keep Neal out of jail, if it would save his job, if it would help Neal actually _learn_ for once… 'Alright,' he said, the sound muffled by his hand. This was _not_ going to be fun.

* * *

WC - WC - WC

* * *

Peter stood in the hallway outside Neal's apartment, taking deep breaths as he sorted through the words he wanted to say in his head. He'd texted ahead to let Neal know he'd be coming over, then spent the car journey trying to figure out how exactly to bring up the awkward fact that he thought his C.I. would benefit from an extended trip across his knee. He was still struggling with quite how to phrase it when the door swung open in front of him.

'Peter! Hey, come in, come in.' Neal opened the door looking paradoxically as though he was tired and wrung out but still vibrating with nervous energy. Peter guessed he'd not stepped away from his laptop since he'd gotten home; he was still wearing his suit pants and shirt, though he'd removed the tie, and his hair was falling haphazardly over his forehead.

'I haven't found much yet,' Neal said, turning towards the laptop on the dining table, 'but you can help me search the rest of the files that I haven't gotten to already, and we can –'

'Neal.' Peter stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him, but didn't follow Neal to the table. 'I haven't come to help you with the drive.'

Neal turned back. 'Oh. I just assumed. I know you like a good mystery,' he said, with a quick grin. Then the grin faded a little. 'So why did you come?'

Peter took a deep breath. 'I think we need to talk further about what happened today.'

Neal's face dropped and then shifted into a carefully composed mask of polite confusion, and he pushed his hands into his pockets, a move Peter recognised as his defences rising. 'I thought we sorted everything out?' he asked innocently.

Peter put his hands on his hips. 'We did. Until I went home and started to wonder why you'd managed to end up with everything you wanted again.'

Neal smiled and looked down at the floor, glancing up quickly through his lashes with a familiar mix of cockiness and amused self-deprecation. 'Just lucky, I guess,' he said lightly.

Peter grunted. 'I'm not so sure.' He waited until Neal looked up again and met his gaze steadily before he continued. 'I believed you when you said my trust was more important to you than getting the drive. But it occurred to me that you knew exactly what would happen if we arrested Abigail whilst she still had it on her. You knew I'd find a way to copy it. Which makes me wonder whether this was your plan all along.'

'It wasn't,' Neal protested. 'I swear, Peter. I didn't even say yes to her at first. I only agreed after she started blackmailing me.'

'But you did agree. You could have come to me, but you didn't; you followed through with it, and made sure you came away with what you needed.'

Neal folded his arms across his chest. 'You wouldn't have believed me, there was too much evidence, I told you that earlier.'

'Right,' Peter said sarcastically. 'Because I've never gone out on a limb for you before. I thought you might have reached the point of trusting me by now.'

Neal flushed and looked away.

'You had plenty of opportunity to stop this, to tell me what was going on, to behave like an adult or like my partner,' Peter continued, feeling his irritation rise. 'But you didn't. You didn't trust me, you broke the law, and you manipulated me.'

'I didn't manip-' Neal started.

'Really? So it honestly didn't occur to you that if you went through with the heist and then reported it to me afterwards, I'd end up copying the drive for you?'

Neal tried to hold Peter's gaze, but eventually he dropped his eyes. 'It might have crossed my mind,' he said quietly.

Peter forced himself to breathe slowly and stay calm. The strangling idea was starting to appeal again.

'I can't do this again Neal,' he said, his voice soft and resigned.

Neal's head jerked up. 'Do _what_?' he said warily.

'This dance. I can't stand by and let you do whatever you want, and then pick up the pieces. The higher ups are just waiting for me to mess up, and I have to start doing things by the book, or we'll both be out of a job and you'll be back behind bars.' He stopped, ran his hand through his hair in frustration, and then started again. 'And I can't do it on a personal level either. You sat there in the van today, looked me in the eye and said 'I decided that your way is the best way'. You _looked me in the eye and lied_, Neal.'

Neal shook his head insistently. 'It wasn't a lie Peter, not exactly –'

'It was damn close!' Peter snapped. Neal flinched and took a step back.

'I'm sorry,' he said tightly. His eyes were hard and he looked like he'd shut down when Peter raised his voice. 'I know I screwed up today. But you could cut me some slack here. I'm _grieving,_ Peter.'

Peter felt the wind go out of his sails. He exhaled heavily and walked over to Neal, pulling him into a swift one-armed hug. Neal stood stiffly in the embrace for a moment, then allowed himself to relax into Peter for just a second before stepping away and wrapping his arms around himself, ducking his head.

Peter stayed close by, rested his butt against the table and reached out to tug Neal next to him so they were leaning side by side.

'I know you're grieving. I wish I could take it away, I wish I could give you Ellen back, but I can't.' He kept his voice gentle. 'And if you get arrested, or if I get fired because of something you do and you haven't got a handler any more, nobody's going to give you a get out of jail free card because you were going through a rough time.' Peter wished he had better words, kinder words, but this was the best he could do. 'I can't just let this go. I keep ignoring these things, and they keep happening, and nothing changes.' He nudged Neal gently with his elbow. 'I care about you too much to let you carry on like this.'

Neal was silent for a minute. 'So what happens now?'

Peter braced himself. 'There need to be consequences.' He saw Neal's head turn towards him, glimpsed the not-quite-covered fear in his eyes and put a steadying hand on Neal's arm. 'I'm not sending you back,' he said quickly, and Neal's eyes cleared.

'Okay,' he said, sounding a mixture of relieved and resigned. 'So am I on house arrest again?'

'No.' Peter had tried that after Neal had attempted to shoot Fowler. It hadn't made any difference at all. 'I don't think a few days in your luxury apartment with Mozzie dropping by to drink wine with you is any hardship. And I'm guessing you want to be here to work on the drive right now anyway, so it wouldn't be much of a punishment.'

Neal looked bemused. 'Well, what other 'punishments' are there? I have to warn you, I've already eaten so you can't send me to bed without dinner.'

Peter grinned. 'Is that what your mom did when you were naughty?' he asked. He watched Neal wrinkle his nose a little at his choice of words, no doubt taking exception to the idea that anything Neal Caffrey ever had done could be described in low, common terms like 'naughty'. But then Neal just shrugged, and gave a bitter smile.

'Yeah. Although I think sometimes she invented reasons to be mad at me, because she knew we didn't have any food for dinner anyway.'

Peter looked up sharply. 'Things were that bad?'

Neal shrugged again. 'Sometimes. Sometimes not.' He gave a sudden flash of a smile. 'Sometimes I managed to acquire some essential items for us even if we didn't have the money.'

Peter rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he knew Neal intended him to, but inside his guts were twisting unpleasantly. There was nothing he could do about Neal's childhood now though, so he pushed down the illogical desire to bundle Neal up and take him home where El could feed him hot dinners until he couldn't move. Peter shifted close enough to Neal so that their shoulders were touching in an attempt at a quiet gesture of comfort, and then forced himself to return to the issue at hand.

'What about when you lived with Ellen?' he asked. 'Did she send you to bed early?'

Neal sighed, obviously growing tired of this conversation, but answered anyway. 'Sometimes. Grounded me, mostly.'

Peter considered the logistics of grounding a miniature escape artist. 'How did that work out?'

Neal shifted, grinned a little. 'It worked…occasionally. I was no stranger to climbing out the window though.'

'I'm sure,' Peter said wryly. He readied himself. Moment of truth. 'Did she ever spank you?'

Neal huffed out a laugh. 'No. I was thirteen when I moved in with her, I was way too old to be spanked.'

Peter raised an eyebrow. 'Thirteen is _not_ too old to be spanked. My father always said you're never too old to be spanked.'

Neal's lip quirked up. 'Yeah, that sounds like the sort of thing a Burke would say.'

'Mmhmm,' Peter murmured, waiting for the shoe to drop.

It wasn't long before Neal's face froze, and Peter felt the younger man's shoulders tense next to him. Neal had always been able to guess what Peter was saying well before he actually said it; he was almost surprised he hadn't read the signs quicker.

A second later Neal jumped up, moved swiftly away from the table and stepped back a few feet from Peter, turning to face him with an expression that seemed to be switching rapidly back and forth between incredulity and horror.

'You're not suggesting that I'm _still_ not too – not too old – _Peter_!'

Peter held his hands up in a placating gesture. 'Calm down. It's not an unreasonable idea.'

Neal did not calm down. 'It's a wildly unreasonable idea! I'm not a child.'

Peter just about restrained himself from telling Neal that he acted like a child most of the time. 'I know you're not. But I'm running low on options, and I need to do _something_ here.' He caught Neal's eye deliberately. 'And _you_ need someone to pull you in line and stop you from ruining your life.'

Neal backed up further, eyes growing wide and panicked. 'Peter, with all due respect, I think you might have lost your mind. I've never been…' he stopped, seemingly having lost the ability to say _spanked_. 'I've never been punished like that and I'm certainly not about to start now.' His gaze flicked to the door and he looked close to bolting from the apartment.

'_Okay_, Neal, I said calm down. I'm not going to force you into anything.' Peter moved off the table and sat down in one of the dining chairs, indicating that Neal do the same. Neal glared at him suspiciously but did as instructed, looking glad to have the dining table as a solid barrier between them. Peter put his hands flat on the table, trying to appear non-threatening and reassuring, but Neal looked unconvinced.

'If you're not going to force me into anything, then can we drop the subject?' Neal asked.

Peter shook his head. 'I need you to understand that I'm not going to put you back in prison if you don't agree to me disciplining you, but I want you to seriously consider it. If you won't accept consequences for your actions, then the only other option is to start behaving yourself, because I can't keep covering for you if I don't think things are going to change. I won't. It doesn't do either of us any good.'

Neal made a face that suggested he thought Peter covering for him did at least one of them some good, but he remained silent, so Peter simply sat back and waited for him to respond. It was a couple of minutes before Neal huffed out a frustrated sigh. 'That's not fair Peter. You know I can't follow the rules all the time.'

'You could if you really wanted to.' Peter levelled him with a stare that had Neal shifting uncomfortably.

'But I'll screw up, break some stupid law that doesn't help anyone anyway, and then…' he leant back in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest and all but pouted. 'You've always helped me before,' he muttered. When Peter didn't respond, Neal pushed his chair back, got up and went over to the window, his back to Peter.

Peter watched quietly.

Time ticked by.

'So…' Neal said at length, still gazing out at the darkness. 'You seriously want to do this?'

'I don't want to, but I think it's necessary,' Peter said softly. 'Look, Neal, it won't be that bad. It'll be over quickly, and you'll hopefully have an incentive to avoid doing something this stupid again. It'll be good for our partnership, it'll be good for _you_…and maybe when the anklet comes off, you'll be in a better position to exert some self-control.'

Neal didn't answer for a while. When he did respond, it wasn't with the words Peter expected. He expected Neal to argue more, or to tell Peter to leave, or to say the other sentence Peter was surprised hadn't come out yet. But he simply said, 'What will you use?'

'Use?' Peter felt lost for a second.

'To hit me with,' Neal said, and suddenly he sounded so small and unsure that Peter couldn't help getting up and going over to him. Neal held himself taut, his posture stiff as Peter approached, and Peter could only be thankful that he didn't flinch away when Peter stood next to him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

'Nothing. Well, I mean, just my hand.'

Neal glanced over in surprise. There was an embarrassed flush over the younger man's cheeks that made him look softer and sweeter than Peter had ever seen him, but that didn't stop him from looking sceptically at Peter and raising an eyebrow.

'You think a few smacks with your hand are gonna make me change my ways?' Neal asked dryly, and then hurriedly followed it up with, 'Not that I'm suggesting you _should_ use anything else.'

'I think I'll be perfectly capable of getting my point across,' Peter said.

Neal sighed and leant back into Peter's touch for a minute. 'This is the weirdest thing I've ever heard,' he muttered. 'And by far the most mortifying.'

Peter squeezed his neck briefly and then stepped away. 'It's unconventional, yeah, but you're not a conventional guy, Neal.'

Neal honoured him with a small smile. 'True.' He took a deep breath, obviously making a decision. 'Can we get this over with then?' He looked around briefly and then said, 'I should bend over the table, right?'

Peter shook his head, started to make his way over to the living area and beckoned Neal to follow him. 'On the couch,' he said simply.

He sat down and waited for Neal to join him, but Neal's face seemed to lose all colour right around the moment that Peter seated himself.

'That's a joke, right?' he asked, shoving his hands hard into his pockets and backing up against the window. 'Funny, Peter.'

Peter wasn't sure what was going through Neal's mind. 'Excuse me?' he asked.

'Peter. You can't possibly be suggesting I go across…that I go…over… I'm not five years old.' Neal's face was now swiftly changing back from pale to flushed and he was shifting on his feet in a way that Peter had never seen. He suddenly looked a lot younger than his years. 'Why can't I bend over the table?' he demanded, his voice approaching a whine in its desperation.

Peter hesitated. He didn't think Neal would really understand if Peter said he wanted him across his lap so that he could take care of him, could hold him and steady him, and help him through the punishment. Neal would probably say that he didn't need any of those things. And Peter didn't know quite how to explain that taking Neal over his knee _meant_ something, that it spoke of love and family and gentleness in a way that bending him over a piece of furniture would not. So instead he said the simplest thing he could think of.

'It's how my father always used to spank me.'

Neal's eyebrows knitted together for a moment and he opened his mouth to reply. Peter braced himself to hear the words he'd been expecting to hear when they'd sat at the table earlier, and then again when Neal had stared out of the window; the words he'd honestly been expecting to have to deal with as soon as he brought up the idea of punishment. _You're not my father._

But the words didn't come. Neal closed his mouth without saying a thing, and his face relaxed, with something that Peter thought might be a shy hint of a smile passing over it for just a fraction of a second before he ducked his head and made his way over to Peter's side.

'Okay,' Peter said, relieved to be getting on with things. 'Just get your pants down, and then we can start.'

Neal's eyebrows shot up and he went to move back again, but Peter caught his wrist in his hand.

'Don't fight me on every little thing,' he said quietly. Neal looked as though he was going to argue, but eventually he wilted under Peter's stern gaze and started fumbling with his belt buckle. After Neal had made a couple of unsuccessful attempts, Peter took pity on him, grasped one of his shaking hands, pushed it gently away and tackled the buckle himself. He could feel Neal trembling slightly under his touch as he unfastened the belt and then pushed the pants down to Neal's knees.

'_Peterrrr_,' Neal mumbled, not for any particular reason as far as Peter could see.

'Mmm?' he looked up at Neal.

Neal just looked down at him despondently.

'Okay, come on, over you go,' Peter said, tugging Neal down and across his lap. Neal squirmed, uncomfortable, his toes scrabbling at the floor for a minute and his top half shifting around on the couch until Peter pulled him in tight, securing him against his stomach with a firm arm encircling Neal's waist. 'Alright?' he asked.

'No,' Neal muttered, reaching back to push the tails of his shirt down over his boxer-brief-clad butt. Peter flipped the shirt back up and out of the way and Neal kicked the floor in frustration. 'I really think my house arrest suggestion should be reconsidered,' he snapped.

Peter ignored him and grasped the waistband of the boxer briefs. He wasn't surprised when Neal reached his hand back to grab at them too, but Peter had them down, tangled around the middle of Neal's thighs before Neal could interfere.

'_Peter!_' Neal said again, horrified, and Peter began to wonder whether his name was being used as some sort of new curse word. He caught Neal's hand as it strained to recapture the underwear.

'Enough, Neal, I need to see what I'm doing.' Peter had no qualms about spanking Neal bare; he and Neal had seen each other naked before in the communal showers at the Bureau gym, and there'd been that unfortunate time when Neal had been running a fever high enough to make him delirious and Peter had wrestled him into a cool bath. The kid had never shown any issue with Peter seeing his ass before so he wasn't prepared to put up with any excuses now. And he _did_ need to see what he was doing; he'd never spanked anyone before and he wasn't entirely sure how much strength he'd need to use.

Neal stopped squirming after his hand was captured, and just held himself stiffly in position, grumbling something about control freaks into the couch cushions.

Peter rested his right hand lightly on the now unprotected backside across his lap and Neal twitched involuntarily. His mumbled complaints stopped and Peter was fairly sure he had his attention now.

'Tell me why we're here,' he said firmly.

Neal twisted his head round to catch Peter's eye. 'If you've forgotten already then maybe we should call it a day,' he said, trying one of his patented con-smiles in what Peter could only assume was an ill-advised attempt to charm himself out of the situation now that he was faced with the unpleasant reality of it. Peter rolled his eyes and patted Neal's bottom firmly.

'Want to try that again?' he asked as Neal tried ineffectively to wriggle away from the pats.

Neal let out an irritated growl. 'We're here because I went behind your back and stole a sculpture.' He pushed his head back into the cushion, but Peter heard him follow it up with, 'And because you seem to think it's still the 1940s.'

Peter gritted his teeth, raised his hand and brought it down in a hard smack across the centre of Neal's rump. A dark pink splotch blossomed instantly on the pale skin.

'_Ow!_' Neal jerked under Peter's hold and turned his head again. 'Peter, that _hurt_!'

'It's supposed to hurt,' Peter reassured him dryly. 'I want you to think about how you acted today and how you're going to act in future whilst we're doing this, got it? And you can keep the smart remarks to yourself.'

Neal scowled at him. Peter slapped his butt again, hard.

'Yes, _yes_, I've got it,' Neal said hurriedly, wincing and turning away.

Peter pressed his lips together in determination and started spanking Neal in earnest, swallowing down any remaining uncertainty and discomfort, and concentrating on spreading even, solid smacks across Neal's ass, alternating cheeks. Now that Peter had properly begun, Neal had obviously decided to take it stoically, and he was doing his best to remain quiet over Peter's lap. His captured hand twitched slightly in Peter's as it was held against the small of his back, and his feet were tapping lightly against the floor, but otherwise he was still. He remained so until Peter slapped low down across his sit spot, ripping a yelp out of his throat. Neal attempted to cover it with a cough and Peter had to smile.

'You can make noise if you want,' he said gently as he moved all his swats down to the crease where Neal's bottom met his thighs.

'I'm fine,' Neal gritted out, all his muscles tense and straining.

'Fair enough,' Peter said quietly, concentrating on changing the colour of Neal's skin from dusty rose to a brighter red. A few more smacks to the kid's sit spot had Neal starting to kick harder against the floor, and after yet a few more he started to 'ah' and 'ow' his way through the swats. Eventually the sounds changed to words.

'Ah, Peter, that's enough,' Neal said, twisting across Peter's thighs. He tried to pull his body away from Peter's and to yank his hand out of its position against his back, but he was entirely unsuccessful. 'I said, that's enough,' he snapped, his voice shaky and breathless and _angry_.

Peter paused and rested his hand on Neal's as-yet-untouched thigh. He patted him gently, and, he hoped, reassuringly. 'You know you don't get to decide when this ends, right?' he asked, because Neal sounded genuinely irritated that Peter wasn't obeying his demands to stop.

'I've had _enough_,' Neal repeated. 'I've learned my lesson, I swear. No more stealing or going behind your back.'

Peter sighed. 'We're not done yet,' he said softly, knowing that the tension in Neal's body and the defiance in his tone meant they had a fair way to go. He remembered his own sessions over his dad's knee, and they'd never ended until Peter had given in, set his pride aside and let himself cry. His father had always taken him to that place, and he was determined to do the same for his own –

his own –

He looked down at the squirming, red-bottomed boy across his lap, at the hand he was holding tightly, at the back of Neal's head with its dark waves curling down his neck, the ends just dampening with sweat. This feeling wasn't exactly a surprise, he'd known subconsciously that it existed for a long time, but verbalising the realisation in his mind was something else entirely, and it took his breath away. Neal was _his_, his own boy.

And he wasn't willing to be anything less for Neal than his own father had been for Peter.

He reached out with his sore, heated hand and smoothed Neal's hair back a little. 'You can get through it,' he said, then turned his attention back to the job at hand.

'But –' Neal started, and then his words left him and he was back to yelps as Peter's hand relit the fire across his ass.

'I need you to understand that I expect more from you,' Peter said, deciding that the time for lecturing had come as he laid down further firm swats. 'You don't have to steal and lie. I know you can do better. You are _so_ much more than a conman.'

He felt Neal shudder under his hand as he said the last sentence, and then Neal was suddenly bucking and twisting and saying '_Peter_,' so urgently that Peter stopped abruptly.

'What, Neal?'

'You have to stop,' Neal said, and now he sounded close to tears.

'Why?' Peter asked, confused. Something was obviously wrong. 'Can you breathe okay? Are you going to throw up?'

Neal shook his head. 'No. No, Peter, you can't – I can't take any more. If you carry on I'm gonna…cry.' If he hadn't sounded so _utterly_ appalled at the idea that he might cry, Peter might have smiled at the idea that Neal thought that was a reason to stop, but as it was, the desperation in Neal's voice just about broke Peter's heart.

'Hey, that's okay. It's a spanking, you're allowed to cry,' he said, reaching out to smooth the kid's hair again. 'I'm the only person here, there's no one else, you don't have to be brave.'

'But…' Neal said, sounding confused and lost. 'I'm an adult. I shouldn't – you shouldn't have to –' He stopped.

'I shouldn't have to what?'

Neal shrugged, shifted awkwardly so he could get his left hand to his face to rub at his nose and eyes. 'You shouldn't have to put up with me crying all over you,' he muttered.

Peter felt something tight and angry in his chest, directed at anyone and everyone who'd ever made Neal feel that he couldn't let go, couldn't let his masks down for a second.

'You are more than welcome to cry as much as you need to, okay?' Peter said firmly, squeezing Neal's captive hand in his own.

Neal sniffed into the couch.

'_Okay?_' Peter asked again.

'Okay,' Neal murmured, and Peter was fairly sure he felt Neal squeeze his hand back.

'We're just gonna do a bit more,' Peter said. 'And I need you to remember this last part whenever you're tempted to lie to me or manipulate me again. Because I will repeat this lesson if we need to.'

He steeled himself, drew back his hand, and brought it down sharply across Neal's unblemished right thigh. Neal yelped, and kept on yelping as Peter spanked the tops of his thighs again and again. And then Peter felt Neal shake, and heard the wet, shivery gasps that he was certain were accompanying genuine tears. He lightened the swats a little but kept spanking as Neal writhed and cried quietly, and then finally gave into the sobs. Neal slumped down and melted into Peter's lap, and Peter slowed and softened the smacks, the rosy skin hot under his gentling touch.

He released Neal's hand from its hold and rubbed his back as Neal's cries quietened, interrupted occasionally by a choking sob. Peter lifted him up slightly by the hips and slid his boxer briefs gently back over his very sore looking backside, wincing along with him when the fabric scraped across the skin.

'Alright, it's okay, we're all finished,' he said softly, keeping his hand moving in soft circles across the base of Neal's back. 'You did really well, really well.' He could vaguely remember his own warm flush of pride whenever his father had told him he'd taken a punishment well, and he hoped Neal would feel it too.

It took a couple of minutes for Neal to completely quieten, and then he started to push himself up. Peter gripped his arms gently and helped him up, settling him onto the couch beside himself. He wrapped his arm around the younger man and pulled him in against his side until Neal was all but melded to him, his head resting on Peter's shoulder as he sniffed and stared down at his lap.

Neal swiped his hand across his eyes a few times and then tried to pull away from Peter, but he had little success.

'Just stay here for a couple of minutes, okay?' Peter said. Neal nodded against him and curled in. He reached down to rub his backside, but Peter nudged his hand away. 'Leave it alone,' he admonished quietly, and Neal put his hands back in his lap.

'Peter?'

'Yeah?'

'You're cuddling me.' Neal's voice was still thick with leftover tears but he was managing to inject some amusement into it.

'I'm aware of that,' Peter said, tightening his hold briefly as he squeezed Neal's shoulder.

'Well, this is new,' Neal said. He wasn't making any more escape attempts though.

'It's quite the evening of firsts,' Peter replied, looking down at Neal's head. 'You alright?'

Neal shrugged. 'Yeah. It hurt though. I didn't…it was _more_ than I expected.' He forced out an embarrassed laugh. And then he lowered his voice. 'Peter? I'm really sorry. I won't do it again.'

'I think that would be wise,' Peter said. He gave Neal a final squeeze. 'Why don't you go and get ready for bed?'

Neal looked up, alarmed, and then rose quickly off the couch, grabbing at his pants and pulling them up with a barely contained grimace. 'Yeah, yeah, sorry Peter. I know you need to be getting back to Elizabeth. I'll see you tomorrow.' He pushed his hair back off his face and did his best to look put-together.

Peter stared at him in brief confusion and then rose up too and held Neal firmly by the shoulder. 'I'm not going anywhere,' he said. 'El will be asleep by now anyway, it doesn't matter what time I get back. I just meant that you looked tired and you should put your pyjamas on and brush your teeth.'

'Oh.' Neal was surprised. 'Okay. I don't mind though, if you need to leave. I can get to bed by myself.' He didn't look thrilled at the prospect of doing so, but he was obviously attempting to appear capable, forcing himself to look Peter in the eye.

Peter shook his head. 'Just go and get ready, yeah?' He reached over and grabbed Neal's sleep pants and vest from the end of the bed, then turned Neal towards the bathroom and sent him on his way with the softest of swats to his butt. He grinned in relief when Neal felt well enough to turn round and give him a mock glare.

Peter watched Neal disappear through the door and then flopped back down onto the couch, rubbing his still-sore hand wearily over his face. The spanking had been draining, both physically and emotionally, but he was glad he'd done it. He hoped with everything he had that it would convince Neal to start behaving himself, but he had to admit that even if it didn't, it had probably still been worth it purely to allow Neal to let go and cry. He didn't think Neal had let out his emotions much since Ellen had died, and he'd never have let Peter hold him and comfort him under normal circumstances, no matter how much he needed it.

A few minutes later he looked up to see Neal walking back through the room, wearing his nightclothes, his gait careful and somewhat uncomfortable-looking.

'Hey,' Peter said quietly, moving to pull the covers back from Neal's bed for him. 'All sorted?'

'Yeah,' Neal nodded. He stopped next to the bed and gave Peter a look that Peter couldn't quite read. 'Are you tucking me in?' he asked with careful nonchalance.

'I am,' Peter asserted sternly, pushing away his own awkwardness. 'In you get,' he ordered.

Neal gave him an ironic salute and then lowered himself gently onto the mattress, flipping onto his side quickly. Peter pulled the covers up over him.

'Do I get a bedtime story too?' Neal asked, and it should have been sarcastic, but it wasn't _quite_.

Peter raised an eyebrow and sat down on the edge of the bed. 'Absolutely. I can tell you the story of a brave and handsome F.B.I. agent. He was strong and smart, and one day he was given the case of a bonds forger. As soon as the brave agent saw the case, he knew one day he would catch the forger using his superior intellect and incredible –'

'Alright, Peter.' Neal covered his eyes dramatically. 'I don't think I need to hear any more of that.'

Peter grinned, then reached out and ruffled Neal's hair. 'You're gonna sleep well tonight,' he promised, remembering how quickly he used to drift off after a thorough spanking and crying session when he was young.

'I doubt it, my ass hurts,' Neal grumbled.

'Trust me,' Peter said.

Neal moved his hand away from his eyes and nodded. 'Yeah, I do.'

Peter swallowed hard. 'Okay, are you alright for me to head off?'

Neal nodded again. 'Night, Peter,' he said softly.

'See you tomorrow,' Peter promised, getting up and moving towards the door.

'Peter, wait. How does the story end?'

_The bedtime story?_ Peter paused and turned back. A few hours ago he'd have been willing to bet it would end badly for the bonds forger, with a never-ending cycle of rule-breaking eventually leading to a return to jail that not even the brave and strong F.B.I. agent could prevent. But Neal was looking at him as though Peter could make the ending anything he wanted it to be, as though Peter could say it and it would be so. And maybe he could.

'They all lived happily ever after,' Peter said decisively, and Neal closed his eyes and smiled.

- END -

**Hope you enjoyed :)**


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